


Two Syllable Poem

by timeiscontagious



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Conversations with Other Women AU, OOC, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:04:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeiscontagious/pseuds/timeiscontagious
Summary: Truth of the matter is Ian only goes to the wedding because he knows Mandy's brother will be there.Reliving the past is sometimes too tempting to ignore.





	Two Syllable Poem

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU for the film Conversations With Other Women.

**The Drake Hotel Grand Ballroom, June 24, 2017**

Truth of the matter is Ian only goes to the wedding because he knows her brother will be there.

He was pretty surprised about the invite actually. He and Mandy hadn’t spoken to each other in over a decade so when she called to not only invite him to the wedding but to have him stand as a groomsmen he was taken aback. But he didn’t hesitate to say yes. He was an afterthought. Mandy all but confirmed that when she spoke with him. See, she needed to balance the groomsmen with the bridesmaids after her fiance's stepbrother’s cousin broke his tailbone in a freak line dancing incident. She exhausted all her options pretty much. And then she thought of him.

They were good friends once upon a time. He could even argue they were best friends if he really wanted to. But when he and her brother busted up twelve years back, they fell out of contact. It didn’t stop him from reaching out the first year, maybe even a little into the second year, but she had written him off. If he knew their relationship was contingent on his relationship with her brother, he wouldn’t have gotten so attached. But he didn’t know that then.

He didn’t know a lot of things back then. But he knows them now. He’s matured; gotten smarter about most things; learned lessons he should have learned a very long time ago. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have had to lose what he lost. Hindsight is 20/20 though.

He looks in the mirror. He’s aged. Not badly. He still looks good for the most part, but there’s the beginning of crow’s feet. A couple of frown lines. A slight pudge around his middle. Nothing off-putting, but there all the same. Her brother still looks good. He’s aged too of course but has done so in a way that makes him look distinguished. Maybe it’s the suit. Ian shrugs.

He walks out of the bathroom and watches the thinning herd of people dancing badly on the dance floor. It’s approaching midnight, and the reception is coming to a close. He stands by the bar before he spots Mandy’s brother stealing an open pack of cigarettes and lighter off one of the dining tables. Ian smirks to himself before walking towards him as he lights one up, half in half out of the ballroom. Ian sidles up to him, leaning against the door.

“I saw what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“Steal a pack of cigarettes.”

“That’s impossible. I don’t smoke.”

Ian chuckles to himself before looking at the man next to him.

“Hey, Mick.”

**Some random person’s basement party, November 2, 2002**

Ian sees him from across the room.

He’s by himself, smoking a cigarette, and attentively listening to the punk rock band playing in the corner. Ian smiles to himself when he sees the guy bob his head a little to the music. He starts to walk over to him when some other guy swoops in front and starts talking to the man Ian set his sights on. He watches as his rival gets shooed away. He then approaches the object of his affection.

“I saw what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“Shut that guy down with a wave of your hand.”

“He asked for a cigarette. I told him I don’t smoke.”

Ian chuckles.

“I’m Ian.”

“Mickey.”

**The Drake Hotel Grand Ballroom, June 24, 2017**

A hotel worker tells Mickey he can’t smoke inside.

Mickey doesn’t respond, just dumps the cigarette in a half full glass of water. He then walks to the bar with Ian in tow. Ian speaks to the bartender first, ordering two whiskeys straight. While they wait for their drinks, Mickey gives Ian the once over. He looks good for the most part. Some wrinkles here and there. Maybe a little softer around the middle. But they’re almost forty now. He wasn’t expecting the same chiseled man he met back in his twenties.

It’s funny somehow. Mickey honestly expected to never see him again yet here he is at his sister’s wedding. His sister who vowed to never speak to Ian after Mickey left. He guesses promises only go so far when you’re planning a wedding. He doesn’t begrudge her. He’s actually been looking forward to this. Once they’re given their drinks and Ian hands over a tip, they turn to look at each other.

“I wasn’t expecting to come to this.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you like this.”

They’re not talking about the wedding. They both know that. Neither of them will admit it though.

“I never thought I would see Mandy get married. She always said she never wanted to settle down.”

Mickey shrugs.

“I honestly thought it would happen sooner. There was another guy. But you know how those things go.”

Ian looks over Mickey’s head to watch Mandy and her husband slow dance to a Mariah Carey song. They’re completely oblivious to the hotel employees around them, clearing off tables and stacking chairs. Almost everyone is gone expect for a few stragglers.

“She looks happy.”

“She is.”

Ian turns his attention back to Mickey. He smiles.

“You look good.”

“I look old.”

Ian laughs.

“If you look old, I look old. We’re the same age.”

Mickey smirks.

“I look really old.”

Ian laughs again.

“You’re such an asshole.”

They both sip their drinks. There’s very little awkwardness surprisingly enough. Neither one of them thought it would go this well. Ian was certainly expecting to be avoided. Mickey expected to be nervous. They were both wrong it seems. Ian licks his lips.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. No complaints. What about you?”

Ian shrugs.

“I’m all right. Still an EMT. Still hanging on.”

Before Mickey can respond, Ian continues.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Mickey turns around so that he can cross his arms on the bar.

“I’m going back home.”

Ian furrows his brow in confusion.

“Wait. You don’t live in Chicago anymore?”

Mickey shakes his head.

“Moved to Colorado. Denver. Well, a little outside of Denver. Own a house. Two car garage. Backyard. A walkway I have to shovel.”

“When?”

“Twelve years ago.”

Mickey’s met with silence because Ian is trying to reconcile this fact with what he knows from before. It dawns on him then. He looks at Mickey’s left hand resting casually on his right arm.

“You’re married.”

Mickey looks at the gold band placed on his fourth finger.

“I am.”

Ian takes a deep breath. He too turns around before downing the rest of his whiskey. He exhales before looking at Mickey.

“I can’t believe you got married.”

Mickey shrugs.

“It’s just a ring. Just a simple gold band.”

He shrugs again. Ian takes another breath.

**City Hall, January 3, 2003**

They stand on the courthouse steps. It’s nine at night and only three degrees, but there they are like a couple of idiots. The freezing wind whips around them, and their breath is visible as they recite their vows. The vows aren’t their own. They’re the traditions old, standard vows. Nothing original. But as the two of them say these oft-recited words, they mean the world. They mean forever. Ian slips the ring on Mickey’s fourth finger. It’s a simple gold band.

It’s the beginning of everything.

**The Drake Hotel Grand Ballroom/Room 409, June 25, 2017**

“What time is your flight?”

“I have to leave at three thirty.”

Ian is silent. Mickey hesitates before just saying it.

“I rented a room here.”

Ian follows him to the elevators.

 The hotel room is nice. Ian takes a casual look around before going to close the curtains. Mickey sits on the bed and takes off his shoes. Ian does the same.

“How do you like Colorado?”

“It’s pretty.”

Ian snorts.

“That’s all?”

“It’s really pretty.”

Ian shakes his head and takes off his suit jacket and dress shirt, dropping them to the floor while Mickey watches. Ian hesitates about taking off his t-shirt before thinking _fuck it_ and lifting it over his head. He looks at Mickey who is resting his elbow on his knee, palm cupping his chin.

“What do you think?”

“You’re different than I remember.”

“How?”

“You’ve gotten a little pudgier around the middle.”

Ian’s feelings are hurt. Mickey realizes this as Ian reaches for his t-shirt.

“Ian, stop.”

When Ian does, Mickey waves him over to the bed.

“Come here.”

Ian drops his shirt back on the floor before kneeling on the bed. Mickey takes his jacket, dress shirt, and t-shirt off as well before tossing them on the armchair. He lies back on the bed, his feet still placed on the ground.

“See. I’m a little pudgier too.”

Ian notices it. He touches Mickey’s shoulder.

“Your skin is thinner.”

“Like paper?”

“Not yet.”

Mickey laughs. Ian hears vibrating coming from Mickey’s pants. When Mickey doesn’t move, Ian removes his hand.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?”

Mickey shrugs.

“I know who it is.”

The phone admits a ping once it falls silent. Another ping is heard several seconds later. Mickey closes his eyes.

“Are you going to listen to the voicemail?”

“I know what it says.”

Ian sits cross-legged on the bed.

“Is it your husband checking up on you?”

“He checks _in_ with me. Husbands check _in_ with each other. They shouldn’t have to check up.”

Ian folds his hands and nods. It’s one of the things he knows now.

“What will he ask you?”

“How was the wedding. Did I take pictures. Was the food any good.”

“Why isn’t he here?”

“He had to work.”

“He couldn’t take a day off to come with you to your sister’s wedding?”

“We’re going to Costa Rica for Christmas.”

Ian scratches his side.

“So? What’s that got to do with this?”

“He’s going to need his days.”

“What does he do?”

Mickey stands up and takes off his socks. He takes out his phone, wallet, stolen cigarettes, lighter, and hotel room key card from his pockets and places them on the nightstand. He unbuckles his belt and takes off his pants, laying them on the armchair with the rest of his suit. He’s just in his black boxer briefs now. Ian stares at him.

“You still have nice legs.”

Mickey chuckles. 

“You’re such a dick.”

**Ian’s apartment, November 9, 2002**

Mickey sits against the headboard while Ian lies on his side next to Mickey’s hip.

Ian’s left arm is wrapped around his left thigh. He traces the lines of Ian’s body with his eyes, noting the dips and rises of his shoulder and arm, the swell of his ass, the curve of his calf, and the delicate angle of his foot with his recently trimmed toenails. The hair on his thigh and leg are sexy. Mickey likes to feel them against his tongue. Just as he’s thinking that, Ian starts to run his hand from Mickey’s thigh to his calf.

“You have such nice legs.”

Mickey smiles wide.

“Oh yeah? What makes them so nice?”

“They’re strong.”

He grips Mickey’s thigh tightly to emphasize his point.

“The skin is soft on them too. Softer than the rest of your body. I wonder why that is.”

As Mickey thinks of a retort, Ian grabs both of Mickey’s legs to drag him down, lying on top of him when they’re level.

“I love your legs.”

Mickey makes it a point to wrap them around Ian’s neck later.

**The Drake Hotel Room 409, June 25, 2017**

Ian looks through Mickey’s wallet while he’s in the bathroom.

He finds a picture there. It’s a professional wallet size of Mickey and another man cutting a wedding cake. They’re not looking at each other, but Ian can still tell they were really happy. The man’s attractive. It pisses Ian off. Ian throws the wallet back on the nightstand when he hears the bathroom door open and stands in front of the window. Mickey stops a few steps away from the door to gaze at Ian. He takes a deep breath as Ian takes his socks and pants off. The green briefs make his hair seem redder for some reason. He walks to the bed and pulls the sheets down before climbing in. Mickey does the same.

Ian lies on his side watching Mickey stare at the ceiling. He sees five small scars on Mickey’s abdomen.

“What did you get removed?”

Mickey looks at him in confusion. Ian points to the scars. Mickey looks down at them and then lightly runs a finger over one.

“My gallbladder. I had gallstones. The surgeon wasn’t supposed to make these many, but my liver was wrapped around my gallbladder. It was a little trickier to get out.”

Ian nods before reaching out to touch them.

“To think, I was sitting here not doing anything while you were a little outside of Denver having an organ removed all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“Mandy?”

Mickey shakes his head.

“My husband. That’s how we met. He was my surgeon.”

“Sounds unprofessional.”

Mickey turns his head towards Ian.

“You never hooked up with someone you treated?”

Ian nods his head.

“Yeah. I just never married any of them.”

Mickey climbs on top of him.

**Ian’s apartment, November 2, 2002**

Ian scrapes his nails down Mickey’s nipples.

Mickey moans loudly so Ian does it again. He reaches down to grab Mickey’s hips in order to get more of a bounce going. Mickey likes the help; likes the feeling of Ian’s hands on his body. He speeds up; his cock springing up and down in such a ridiculous manner that he would be embarrassed if he gave himself time to think about it. He’s close, though, so he doesn’t think much at all, choosing to lose himself in the feeling of the tip of Ian’s dick pressing against his prostate. He lets out a gasp when he comes; listens when Ian groans and arches his back. They still. Labored breath. Sweat. The smell of them.

They laugh and kiss each other hard.

**The Drake Hotel Room 409, June 25, 2017**

Ian thrusts quicker until he comes with a groan.

Mickey rubs his hand down the back of Ian’s head. He grasps the back of his neck and tugs Ian into a deep kiss. They continue to kiss each other harder, and Ian thinks they’ll be starting round two shortly when Mickey’s phone vibrates. Mickey ignores it while he continues to kiss him, but Ian’s concentration is blown. He can’t do this if Mickey’s goddamn phone is going to be ringing. He pulls away from Mickey to lie on his back. When Mickey moves to climb on top of him, Ian presses back on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“What?”

Mickey sounds out of breath, and Ian knows he shouldn’t be answering the phone sounding like he was just fucking, but suddenly Ian really wants him to answer the phone.

“Answer the phone.”

“No.”

“Answer the phone, Mickey.”

“No.”

Ian reaches over him to grab the phone from the nightstand. It stops vibrating. He pushes it into Mickey’s hands.

“Answer the goddamn phone, Mickey.”

Mickey gets out of bed and turns on the standing lamp.

“What’s your problem?”

“He’s going to keep calling until you answer, and I can’t fuck you knowing he’s right there.”

Mickey rubs a hand over his face.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Call him back.”

Mickey just stares at him until he accepts that Ian is not going to change his mind. He opens his phone and clicks on the missed call. He puts the phone up to his ear and watches as Ian gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom, shutting the door loudly. He sighs.

Ian puts the faucet on so as not to hear their conversation. He paces back and forth with his hands on his hips and breathes deep. He wants to keep the eating jealously at bay, but it’s not working. He gives in and silently cracks open the bathroom door. He hears Mickey talking.

“Yeah, everything went fine. It was nice…She understood. It wasn’t a big deal…I know. I miss you too…”

At that, Ian opens the door and slams it shut; pretending like it was an accident. Mickey jumps and stares at Ian with wide eyes before clenching his jaw.

“No, no, it was just the door slamming behind the room service guy.”

Mickey pretends to speak with someone.

“Yeah, just place it right there. Thanks. Yeah, you too.”

Ian sits down on the bed and crosses his arms so as to watch Mickey squirm.

“Breakfast food. Eggs, waffles, bacon…No, I didn’t really eat much at the wedding…”

Mickey turns his back towards Ian.

“I will….I love you too…Good night.”

He ends the call and turns around to place the phone on the nightstand.

“You could’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“You’re already in trouble.”

“No, I’m not.”

Ian laughs.

“So what, you’re not going to tell him?”

Mickey shakes his head.

“Why would I? It’s not something I think he needs to know.”

Ian laughs incredulously.

“Seriously? You fuck another guy, and you don’t think that’s something your husband needs to know?”

“No. It would only ruin everything, and where’s the point in that?”

“Sweet Jesus.”

Ian stands up and looks for his briefs before finding them wrapped up in the sheets. He steps into them while shaking his head.

“You’re such a hypocrite. Cheating on your husband and then saying it doesn’t matter. You sound like such an asshole.”

“I sound like you, you mean?”

Ian feels his heart constrict.

**Their apartment, September 21, 2005**

They stand there in silence, staring at each other.

Mickey moves so suddenly that Ian barely has time to duck.

**The Drake Hotel Room 409, June 25, 2017**

“You never said a word.”

Mickey starts to pace then before stopping to grab his underwear from the sheets and put them on. He crosses his arms defensively.

“Did I ever tell you how I found out? I was at the coffee shop on Michigan and Superior. I was sitting at one of the tables when Annie and Jess came in. You remember them? They were such bitches. One of them filmed a porno. I’m sure you remember hearing about that. Anyway, they walk in and they didn’t see me. The line ended around where I was sitting, and I could hear them talking. About me. About you. They felt sorry for me, Ian. Those two gossipy cunts felt sorry for me. Because of you. Because I was with you and I didn’t know that you were fucking every fucking fag in Boystown! I had to sit there and listen to them talk about my boyfriend, my partner, my fucking life! And there you were in front of me, crying like a bitch that was sorry he got caught.”

**Their apartment, September 21, 2005**

Ian sits on the couch with his head in his hands.

He’s crying. He can’t stop crying.

Mickey paces the floor.

**The Drake Hotel Room 409/Roof, June 25, 2017**

Mickey throws on his pants and t-shirt, grabs the cigarettes and lighter, and storms out of the room barefoot.

Ian hurriedly dresses, grabs one of the key cards, and runs to follow him. They end up on the roof. Mickey chain smokes while Ian reaches to grab a cinder block to hold the door open. Ian approaches him. Mickey stares at the sky and blows smoke into the air.

“I hated you. I hated you so much, you have no idea. I was so relieved when I left. When that cab drove away, I just remember taking a deep breath and feeling weightless. Jesus Christ, I was relieved.”

Ian huddles into himself.

“It was never about you.”

“It was always about me.”

Ian wipes at his nose.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’m sorry.”

Mickey shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s done. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Why?”

This genuinely confuses Ian. He can’t imagine forgiving someone who did what he did to Mickey. Hell, he hasn’t completely forgiven Mickey for leaving and it wasn’t even his fault.

“I just learned that hating you was doing absolutely nothing for me.”

Ian still doesn’t understand, but he’ll accept it.

“I used to look for you in crowds.”

Mickey turns his head to look at him.

“For some reason, I was positive I would find you in a crowd. That was how I was going to win you back. In a crowd of people. I still do that from time to time. I guess I should stop now that you don’t even live here anymore.”

“How did you think you would win me back?”

Ian smiles and steps closer.

“I had this whole speech prepared. I had this thing memorized from the inflections to the hand gestures. I was supposed to pour my soul out to you, and you would be so overwhelmed with my affection that you would take me back instantly. No questions asked.”

Mickey shakes his head and smirks.

“Tell me the speech.”

Ian bites his lip for a second. He wants to say he doesn’t remember it, that it was so long ago he could only paraphrase it now. He doesn’t.

“Mickey, I love you. I know that I destroyed everything. I know that I hurt you in ways I should never have. That shit is done. It’s done. You are the only person that I want. I will work to prove myself again, and I promise you that I will make you happy. I swear to God I will.”

Mickey pauses.

“You really thought that speech would have won me back?”

Ian nods his head.

“Yeah.”

Mickey laughs hysterically.

“That was so bad, Ian. Really bad. I would have hated you more if you came at me with that drivel.”

He continues to laugh.

“My god, that was so bad.”

Ian blushes.

“I was never great with words, you know that.”

“I know.”

Ian walks closer to Mickey and wraps his arms around Mickey’s shoulders.

“Let’s go inside. It’s cold.”

**Their apartment, December 16, 2004**

Mickey walks into the room and finds Ian buried under the blankets.

He takes his clothes off and climbs into bed.

**The Drake Hotel Room 409/Outside, June 25, 2017**

Mickey turns to him once they’re back in the room.

“I have to leave in twenty minutes.”

Ian nods. Mickey moves past him to the bathroom.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.”

Ian rubs his hands over his face once he hears the shower turn on. He waits a few seconds before grabbing Mickey’s wallet and taking the picture of Mickey on his wedding day. He also swipes the lighter. He paces the room until he hears the shower turn off.

“I think about you every day. It sucks because everyone I come across I automatically compare them to you. They always fall short which is why I haven’t had a decent relationship since you left.”

He walks towards the bathroom door. Mickey is silent on the other side. He stares into the bathroom mirror; the steam makes his reflection fuzzy. Ian continues talking.

“No one ever mentions you. I think that’s one of the worst things about this. Everyone in my family is so careful. I can feel the effort they make to not even approach the topic. After twelve years, it’s gotten a bit old.”

Ian begins to tear up.

“I want to talk about you. I want to talk _with_ you. I want to know what goes on in your life. I’m not asking for much I don’t think. I mean, it’s just simple conversation. Quick texts to check in with each other. ‘Hi, how are you?’ ‘Good. How are you?’ You know?”

He wipes his eyes.

“I miss you. And I love you so much that it hurts.”

Mickey hangs his head for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. He guesses they were always meant to level each other. He wraps a towel around himself and opens the door. Ian moves back a bit.

“Were you saying something? Everything was a little muffled in there.”

His stomach clenches when he sees Ian’s crestfallen face. Ian shakes his head.

“No. I was just making stupid small talk.”

Mickey nods his head and walks past Ian to grab his duffel bag from the closet. He places it on the bed and takes out some clothes.

“You can stay in the room if you want. It’s all paid for and check out isn’t until noon.”

“Thanks.”

Mickey finishes dressing, pulling his belongings off of the nightstand and placing them into his pockets. He throws his dirty clothes into the bag and zips it up. He turns to look at Ian. Silence takes up the remaining space in the room. In that handful of seconds, he comes to terms with the fact that this will be the absolute last time he will ever see Ian. He flinches. Ian grabs his shoes.

“You know what; I’ll just leave with you. I need to get home anyway.”

Mickey doesn’t respond. Ian throws on his jacket and follows Mickey out the door. They remain silent.

It’s not until a cab pulls up that they look at each other. Ian wants to ask Mickey to stay. And Mickey would like to, but he doesn’t love Ian enough to do it. He loves him without any doubt in his mind, but it’s not enough to walk away from everything. Instead, he grabs Ian by the shoulder and pulls him into a hug. Ian’s eyes well with tears, and he holds onto the love of his life for as long as he can. When Mickey finally pulls away, he places a light kiss on Ian’s lips before sliding into the cab. Just as Ian’s about to close the door, Mickey pulls the cigarette pack out of his pocket.

“Here. Take these.”

“Why?”

“My husband. He doesn’t know I smoke.”

Ian nods his head and takes the pack out of Mickey’s outstretched hand. He closes the door and focuses on the cab as it drives away.

Mickey doesn’t look back.

**Some random person’s basement party, November 2, 2002**

Mickey kisses him in the middle of a crowded room.

Ian takes him home.


End file.
